The Hao family estate is an expansive compound overlooking the glittering bay. It's a place that's rarely quiet, as even at night, servants moved through its corridors with disciplined steps and lights glowed from ancestral halls.

But tonight was different.

Tonight, the silence was unnatural, heavy and pressing.

Every senior member of the family had been summoned to the main hall without explanation. It's an event so rare that even the oldest among them could count the number of times it had happened on one hand. When the Hao patriarch called a midnight gathering, it was never trivial.

Inside the hall, tension pooled like storm clouds.

Tall columns rose toward the ceiling murals depicting the family's history—military victories, political ascensions, economic triumphs.

The Hao family had ruled Macau in everything except name. Their influence seeped into banks, construction, hospitality, government branches, and even the shadows beneath it all.

To offend the Hao family was to gamble with one's life.

Tonight, however, the Hao family wasn't the offended party.

They were the frightened one.

Dozens of chairs filled the long hall, but no one sat comfortably. The eldest uncles leaned forward, fingers steepled beneath their chins and aunts whispered discreetly to each other.

Even the younger members watched in confusion, sensing the gravity but not understanding its source.

And at the head of the room, sitting beneath the ancestral plaque, was the patriarch.

Hao Zuixin, an eighty-three years old elder statesman, with sharp eyes and snow-white beard. He has a presence that made even ministers lower their heads.

He tapped one knuckle against the armrest, a subtle tic that only appeared when he was deeply displeased, or deeply troubled.

Tonight, it was both.

Yuan Hao's father, Hao Zhengqing, stood stiffly off to the side, face pale, hands behind his back, knuckles white. His youngest brother whispered:

"Did you get anything out of your son?"

"No," Zhengqing said through clenched teeth. "He refuses to speak. He looks… terrified."

"Terrified?" another uncle whispered, eyes narrowing. "That brat? Terrified?"

Silence.

Across the room, two guards knelt on the polished floor, both of them heavily bandaged. Their arms were wrapped, ribs padded, necks braced. They bowed with their heads lowered, not daring to look at anyone directly.

Their injuries had raised the first alarm, but their story had triggered the second. And the club's refusal had triggered the emergency meeting.

One of the great-aunts finally spoke. "We are Hao family. Why would a nightclub refuse to release footage to us? Even the governor would not refuse such a request."

"Because the club is afraid of someone else… someone above us," another elder mummured with a tight voice.

The implication settled heavily over the room.

There were few families in Macau or even the region who could intimidate the Hao family. Fewer still outside of China. Their alliances were deep. Their reach touched government. Even military officials attended their banquets.

So if even they were being ignored… then whoever the other party was, he was not merely powerful.

He was untouchable.

The patriarch finally spoke.

"Bring me the guards."

The two kneeling guards flinched, their heads bowing even lower.

One of the elders barked, "Lift your heads!"

They obeyed weakly.

"What did you witness?" the patriarch asked.

But instead of answering, both guards trembled.

A murmur swept the room. Never had they seen Hao family guards—fighters trained from youth, hardened by brutal discipline—shake like children.

"We… we don't know how to describe it…" the first guard whispered. "He—he waved his hand… and we flew. Without being touched."

"That's impossible," one elder snapped. "Were you intoxicated?"

The second guard shook his head violently.

"No, Elder. We swear. It was real. He didn't touch us. He… he flicked his wrist. And… we crashed into the wall."

Some members scoffed and others frowned deeply.

"Is that all?" the patriarch asked slowly.

The guards exchanged a terrified glance.

"He moved…"

"…like he teleported."

The hall erupted in sharp whispers and disbelieving mutters.

"That cannot be."

"Teleportation? Are they insane?"

"Is he a martial artist?"

"Some kind of modified human?"

Yuan Hao's father shut his eyes, absorbing the implications.

Until now, he had assumed his son's fear was childish panic. But the guards' testimony, combined with the club's refusal, twisted the situation into something far more disturbing.

Before the whispers grew into full argument, the double doors slammed open and everyone turned sharply.

Standing at the entrance was Yuan Hao's mother, her expression grim and pale. She walked quickly toward the patriarch, bowed, and said:

"Father… we have the name."

The hall froze.

"Who?" the patriarch asked quietly.

Her lips pressed together. Color drained from her face, and her voice trembled despite her usual composure.

"Liam… Scott."

Dead silence.

It was as if every breath in the hall had been stolen.

One of the uncles dropped his teacup, porcelain shattering loudly, but no one reacted.

The patriarch's fingers tightened on the armrest.

Even those who didn't follow global news felt the shift instantly. They may not know every detail, but they all knew one thing:

Liam Scott was not someone they could afford to provoke.

The patriarch slowly exhaled, closing his eyes and something cold settled in his bones.

"This confirms the guards' report," he said quietly.

One of the eldest uncles rose from his seat, voice trembling with horror.

"We must prepare for retaliation."

Another elder shook his head, fear in his expression.

"No. If he wanted us dead, we'd already be gone."

That realization sent a deeper chill across the room.

The patriarch lifted a hand, calming the room.

"Before we act, we must understand exactly who we are dealing with."

He turned to his first son.

"Zhengqing."

Yuan Hao's father stepped forward immediately.

"Yes, Father."

"You were present when the intelligence reports came out last week."

"Yes."

"You understand the gravity?"

Yuan Hao's father nodded stiffly.

"It is said that he owns the only private A380 in the world. A child with no known background, no viable traceable history and no public records except what he reveals."

He swallowed hard.

"And despite this, he possesses a level of wealth that no one can fathom. Even the Mainland officials expressed confusion behind closed doors."

General unease rippled through the hall.

The patriarch exhaled deeply.

"And now that same boy has broken your son's limbs."

Yuan Hao's father felt humiliation burn through him. But it was overshadowed by fear.

"I warned him…" he whispered. "I warned him repeatedly never to provoke Liam Scott. Our sources didn't even uncover his family name. We don't know his origin. We don't know his resources. We don't know what stands behind him."

"And yet," the patriarch said coldly, "your son provoked him."

Zhengqing bowed his head.

"Yes, Father."

"When he recovers, you will handle his punishment. If you fail… I will."

Zhengqing's spine stiffened. "Understood."

The patriarch wasn't finished.

"As for the family… we cannot treat this normally. This is not a simple feud between privileged children. This is a potential threat to the Hao family's survival."

Everyone flinched immediately when the Patriarch said this.

One aunt whispered shakily:

"But… he's just a teenager. How can he—"

The patriarch cut her off sharply.

"If you had seen what the intelligence agencies failed to uncover, you would not say that."

The room quieted instantly.

"Only two categories of people can erase all personal records," the patriarch continued. "The first is government black-tier operatives."

"And the second," he said, eyes deepening with gravity, "is someone backed by power far above governments."

No one dared speak. One of the uncles finally forced himself to say it:

"You think he comes from a hidden family?"

The patriarch did not answer directly, but the silence he gave was answer enough.

Hidden cultivation families, mythical clans, hidden sects. It's a rumors that circulated among the elite for decades without confirmation.

But the Hao family and other top families had always believed one thing:

If such people existed, they would not be ordinary.

And someone who moved without touching the ground, who manipulated force, who erased records, who made governments nervous…

Fit the description too perfectly.

An elder muttered:

"If news leaks… if the public finds out what he can do—"

"It won't," the patriarch said sharply. "Because we will make sure it doesn't."

The hall bowed their heads.

The patriarch gestured to a secretary.

"Prepare a formal apology to be delivered immediately to Liam."

"Yes, Patriarch."

"And the club?"

"They already contacted us," the secretary replied. "They claim a camera malfunction erased all footage."

The patriarch snorted softly.

"Standard procedure. They know exactly what they witnessed and who they cannot afford to offend."

"So, Father," another elder asked carefully, "what is our long-term response?"

The patriarch's eyes hardened.

"We will not avenge this insult."

The younger members gasped softly.

"We will not investigate further."

More shock.

"And we will not confront him."

Silence.

"Instead," he continued, "we will ensure no member of this family ever repeats this mistake."

His tone was cold, absolute.

"And if any rumor leaves this estate—whether from a servant, a guard, or blood relative—they will be dealt with internally."

Even the air grew colder.

"And what of Yuan Hao?" one elder asked.

The patriarch's gaze shifted to Zhengqing.

His father answered solemnly:

"He will not walk again without remembering this night. He will not raise his voice at a woman again. And he will never return to Macau's nightlife."

His tone held no emotion. Only duty. There was no way that he was going to let his family suffer because of his stupid son.

"And he will apologize properly to Liam Scott when the time comes," the patriarch added. "Even if it means crawling."

"Understood," Zhengqing said.

A moment passed, 5hen another elder asked the final question weighing on everyone's mind:

"What do we make of his… abilities? What explanation should we settle on?"

The patriarch's voice lowered.

"For now… speculation remains contained within this hall. We will speak of it to no one. Not even allies."

"But privately?" he added, eyes narrowing.

Privately, the elders leaned forward almost unconsciously.

Privately… the answer mattered.

And the patriarch finally said what they all feared:

"He is not merely wealthy. He is not merely foreign. He is not merely connected. He is something else. Something… beyond."

A hush fell so absolute that even the lights seemed to dim.

"If hidden families truly exist…" the patriarch whispered, "then he is one of them."

Every Hao felt a cold shiver crawl down their spine.

"And if that is true," he finished, "then rather than preparing for war… we prepare for reverence."

The implications struck the hall like an earthquake.

If Liam Scott was from a hidden cultivation lineage…

If he had power surpassing modern understanding…

If he could break bones without touching them…

Then befriending him was not merely wise, it was essential.

The patriarch rose slowly, gripping his cane.

"This meeting is concluded. Not a word leaves this hall."

Everyone bowed deeply. As they dispersed, a single truth settled heavy in their hearts:

Tonight, the Hao family had not merely been humiliated.

They had been shown a glimpse. A rather terrifying glimpse of a world far above their own.

And they intended to survive it.

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